The Earring
by SurelyForth
Summary: A night of excess leads Anders to a distressing realization. A one-hour prompt fill courtesy of the BSN.


Anders awoke to a face above his, both near and far through a haze of oversleep and…his tongue moved thickly around his mouth for a moment. From the taste, he was lucky to still be _alive_ let alone with any sight to speak of.

One hand went out to push at whoever it was watching him, his fingers somehow becoming tangled in teeth and lips before his arm was returned with an all too familiar laugh that managed to cheer him past his headache.

"_You_ are a mess," her voice was warm in his ear as she settled beside him. "You've normally taken care of your head before you even wake _up_. What did you drink last night?"

"_Everything_," he rubbed at his eyes, or where his hands thought his eyes _should_ be but was more like his jaw. "Cut me and I would bleed…_drink_. Don't cut me, by the way," he shuddered. "I'd probably vomit all over your bed and then we'd have to sleep in _my_ bed and…I like you, but it's _small_ and you're _sharp_."

The laugh sounded again, closer this time, and he was able to bring himself to focus on green eyes close to his.

"Where do you think you are?" She traced her finger along his forehead, the touch pleasingly light.

He blinked hard and realized that _oh_, so not in a bed, the floor beneath him unyielding and _wooden_. With a bit more effort he was able to take in a large desk just beyond his commander, tall bookshelves lining both walls.

"_Please_ tell me this isn't Miss Woolsey's office?"

"It is, but don't worry…it's weekly brunch. She's in the dining room with everyone else."

Anders moaned and closed his eyes again, this time willing a wave of magic to wash over him and ease the beating against his skull. It didn't help with the _gross_ in his mouth, but he did feel marginally less like he'd been hammered on by the Voldriks and more like someone who might be able to pick himself up off of the floor within the next few days.

She continued to run her fingers across his forehead, tracing them down his cheek and then through his hair. He enjoyed the sensation whilst trying to not be turned dizzy by the conflict between still a bit drunk and _desire_.

That's when she _gasped_.

_What_? He sat up, panic surging through him. "Is there a spider? Don't tell me, I don't want to know. I…why are you looking at me like that?"

_That_ was eyes narrowed and lips pulled down at the corners, all with the slightest bit of _you asshole_ in the set of things. It was a look he'd gotten quite a few times in his life, but never from her.

"You're wearing his…," she shook her head in disgust. "You're wearing his _earring_!"

For the second time in seconds, sense was not being made and he went automatically to his ear, his fingertips catching the jewelry there. They expected to find a smooth hoop and, instead, pressed against something smaller, but rough with what could only be gemstones.

His hand came away and he glared at it as if it had betrayed him, the admonishment on his face doing _nothing_ to make her look any less hurt and angry.

"Uh," he swallowed, his throat pushing back against his efforts. "Did I mention that I drank _everything_ last night? I wasn't just bragging. And, who…whose," he pointed back to his ear, "am I wearing exactly? Because I don't really recall any gambling happening…not that I recall _anything_…"

"He wouldn't have bet that earring, Anders," she now looked breathtakingly disappointed and, again, the sentiment was familiar but not on _her_ face. "Zev would barely talk about it to _me_, so I know how important it is to him. You must have…what did you _do, _Anders_?_"

Then her eyes went _down_, traveling from his face, past his neck and chest to where he was very, very naked and reacting to _her _touch and _not_…

"No! No. _No_. I would have _remembered_…," he threw his mind back, desperately trying to catch a moment in the evening before when he'd casually pick-pocketed the elf, or the elf had smiled and said _I find you to be good company, my friend. Take this as a token of our _friendship_ as I have no use for it and I do admire a handsome man in fine jewelry. _"_Maker_, he does tell me I'm handsome all the time. And I did tell him that I like his boots…maybe that's a _line_ in Antiva. Oh! Like "Nice boots! Wanna screw around?'"

The rambling was not making her hate him any less, nor was it particularly reassuring from a _personal_ standpoint.

"I didn't sleep with _Zevran_. You _know_ me! I never forget new and exciting experiences," he was trying to smile, but it probably came across as more of a _grimace_. "And I think _that_ would certainly qualify."

"I don't think he would have given it to you if all you'd done was _sleep_ together," she pressed her hand against her mouth as if she were damning a flood of tears and, Maker, he _was_ an asshole. Maybe. _Wait…_

"What more could we have done? There's only a finite number of things a person _can_ do whilst sodding wasted. Unadvisable sex, public nudity, public _humiliation_, falling out of a window, inadvertently selling all of your possessions to an ox…none of those seem to me _more_ than sleeping together. Which we _didn't_. By the way. So stop giving me those _eyes_."

"What about declarations of undying love, my dear Anders?" The voice came from behind him, and Anders wished that he had the power to open up a portal in the floor that would take him to a place where this conversation _wasn't_ happening and he was doing something infinitely more enjoyable. "Or did you not mean it when you told me I had the most soulful eyes you'd ever seen?"

"Ok," he tried to turn around, but he _was_ still a little drunk, and _things_ were not cooperating with his efforts, so he sort of fell back. Zevran was standing above him, and his golden eyes slid down Anders' chest as hers had, and a smirk touched the elf's lips. "So, first of all, I have a _face_. Secondly, _soulful eyes_? Am I Alistair now? And third…why would you give me something meaningful after one drunken night of…_courtly_ _declarations_?

_Please have let it been nothing more than courtly declarations._

"Because I am attracted to you, Anders," Zevran caught Anders' hands and tugged him to his feet. Looking up at him, the elf's expression was beseeching. "And I thought that you felt the same way for me. When you began rubbing against my leg at dinner last night…well, I only assumed that you were acknowledging these unspoken desires between us. Is ii wrong to become hopeful too quickly when the object of one's affection is making himself available?"

"Wait, I wasn't rubbing _your _leg at dinner! I was…_hers_," Anders jerked his thumb over his shoulder as bits of the evening began to emerge for the haze of confusion. Copious amounts of dwarven ale, followed by an embarrassing amount of Antivan brandy, and she was _sort of_ across from him, sitting next to Zevran and they were giggling over _something_. Anders was well past _amorous_, so sliding low in his chair and sending his knee out in search of hers had seemed like a good way to put up the _let's go find someplace slightly less occupied before I drag you under the table _flag, but his aim may have been a bit off. "_Oh_."

"Tsk," Zevran shook his head in disappointment. "You flirt so shamelessly, you break my _heart_, and _that_ is all you can say?"

"_Hold on_," there was more to this memory- his leg being pushed back toward who it should have went to in the first place, and the two of them laughing as Zevran excused himself before he got caught in the middle of something that might be more than even _he_ could handle. And then Anders had reached out and grabbed the hem of the other man's shirt.

_Thank you for the brandy, I could kiss you for that alone._

_What, do you have an entire list of reasons to kiss me?_

_Maybe. No. I just love you._

"For the brandy," Anders frowned and he took a step back. "I meant I love you for bringing _that_ down. Surely you didn't think I meant…?"

He heard a sputtering giggle from behind and he whirled around unsteadily. Although she'd already arranged her face to utmost innocence, her eyes still gleamed with mischief.

"You are," he pulled at the earring and it came away easily. Instead of a precious momento the likes of which Zev would dote upon, it was a tarnished bit of scrap missing at least two of its dull gemstones. "You are _evil_."

"Now we're even," she gave him a gentle shove. "The next time you decide that it would be _hilarious_ to hide my clothes so that I have to _streak_ through the Keep…in the middle of the afternoon…and with _guests_ here, you might think twice."


End file.
